


Trembling Hands, Trembling Heart

by ShadowWolf



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Episode Related, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-12
Updated: 2013-11-12
Packaged: 2018-01-01 05:57:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1041155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowWolf/pseuds/ShadowWolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When she steps out, when she falls, Leo's heart plummets with her, as his entire world – his everything – falls from the sky.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trembling Hands, Trembling Heart

**Author's Note:**

> I only started shipping them a few hours ago but now I'm crying and I can't stop

The wind whips around her hair, positively howling with intensity, and she stumbles back a little. He's screaming her name, screaming for her to stop, desperately willing her to understand that _she doesn't have to do this, please don't do this, Jemma, oh god._ But if she hears him shouting she doesn't listen. She takes a step back, tears that match Leo's own slipping down her pale cheeks, and the look in her eyes betrays the fear that must be coursing through her. He wants to reach out to her, stop her, wrap his arms around her and never let her go, but the door won't open and his hands are shaking too much to continue to grapple with it.

When she steps out, when she falls, Leo's heart plummets with her, as his entire world – his _everything_ – falls from the sky.

He doesn't know how he manages to get the door open, but, when he does, it's already too late. It's a relief when Ward takes the parachute from his hands, because they're still trembling too much to function, and, really, what could he have done? He's no hero; he's just a skinny, pasty, Scottish boy who barely made it into the field. He only really did it for her – he did it all for her. _Together._

* * *

 

He lies in his bunk, staring at the wall, waiting … waiting. They're all just waiting, and he feels so – so helpless. His whole body trembles, his stomach turning, tying itself in knots, and he refuses to let himself think –

W _hat if he doesn't get to her in time? What if I'm wrong? What if the anti-serum doesn't work? What if I've lost her forever?_

He refuses to let himself think, to entertain the idea that he may have just lost his best friend, his soul mate, the best thing in his life. How is he supposed to live without her? They're a pair, a team, Fitz and Simmons – _Fitzsimmons_. You can't have one without the other; it doesn't work. He can't – he can't live without her.

* * *

 

“He's got her.” Hour later. Hours of waiting. Hours of gut-wrenching agony, “They're okay. She's okay, Fitz.”

He lets Skye wrap him in a hug, but his hands are still trembling, his arms lying still at his sides. His heart is still beating hard against his ribcage, positively pounding in his chest, his pulse drumming in his ears, but none of it matters. Nothing else matters except that she's okay. She's alive, and he hasn't lost her, and they're still Fitzsimmons, still a pair, still a team. She's okay.

* * *

 

It takes a lot of self-control for him not to run straight for her the moment she gets back on board the Bus, but there are protocols to be followed, and if Coulson's half as shaken up as Leo is then getting under his feet is the last thing he wants to be doing.

Still, he waits with baited breath, until she's done with Coulson, done greeting May, done hugging Skye, and it's just the two of them again, together, the way it always should be. And he gathers her up in his arms and presses kisses into her hair and wills his hands to stop trembling where they're wrapped around her, gripping on tight as though she'd fly away if he dared to let go.

“Don't – don't – don't ever leave me again. Just – don't – I can't -”

“I know.” Her voice is choked, her face still pale, and she's pressing feverish kisses to his forehead, to his cheeks, to every inch of skin that she can reach, “I know. I'm sorry. I know.”

And Leo buries his head in her shoulder, heaves a great breathe and finally, finally, manages to calm his shaking hands, one gripping her waist firmly, the other buried tight in damp hair, unwilling – unable – to let go, even for a moment.

 _I love you_ , he thinks, the thought surprising even himself, and he's not quite ready to say it, not quite yet, but she's here and she's safe and that's all that matters, because Leo … Leo is home.


End file.
